


Cigarette Filter

by HeartHarps



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Bob is 19, City slicker/Wisconsin farmgirl AU, F/F, Smut, Trixie is 18, cis women au, questionable hygiene? idk don't have sex in a barn irl please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 14:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15909915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartHarps/pseuds/HeartHarps
Summary: "Bob just put one cowboy boot in front of the other and tried to remember how to kiss."Or, the one where Bob is new in town and Trixie won’t move over on the fucking hay bale.





	Cigarette Filter

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that one picture of the Oh Honey! look: "I wanted it to look like you locked eyes with Trixie at the square dance social and she told you to meet her in the barn in 10 minutes and when you get there you crack the door open and the light falls perfectly on her lying in the hay in slutty garter and stockings but the dress can’t be slutty cuz she’s still a good girl and this is her first time disobeying her parents." -[Amy (shrinkle)](https://www.instagram.com/p/BnW0Zy0gGdB/?taken-by=shrinkle)  
> Jaz (silvervelour on [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvervelour/pseuds/silvervelour) and [tumblr](https://silvervelour.tumblr.com/)) has me obsessed with Bixie and Bixya.  
> The pic Amy posted today just got me. Four hours later, here we are. Enjoy!  
> Title is from the [full caption](https://www.instagram.com/p/BnW0Zy0gGdB/?taken-by=shrinkle) of the picture of the Oh Honey! look.

 

Bob hated Wisconsin.

She hated the wide open fields that surrounded her, her aunt and uncle’s rundown farmhouse, and how her shoes filled up with dirt. Uncle Steven told her she could borrow some leather boots, but Bob just repeatedly and politely declined, secretly loathing everything about the cowboy aesthetic.

Bob hated the dirt. She hated the abundance of grass. She hated the hay. God, how Bob hated hay. She hated the sound of walking on it, how it scratched her skin, the way you could never totally clean it up. She missed the city, her dorm at college, and work that didn’t involve plants or animals. She hated being the only person with an afro for miles around.

So when Uncle Steven told her cousins they should bring Bob to the community center that night, Bob jumped at the chance to be in a real building again. They had barely left the farm in the 2 weeks Bob had been working for her uncle. “Do you like square dancing?” Her cousin Mack asked, in his confused, 17-year-old voice.

“I do now,” Bob announced.

On the other side of the living room, Ella laughed quietly. She had the only working cellphone in the house and didn’t bother to look up from it now. Even though Bob was 19, Ella was 20, so Bob was required by law to prove her wrong at any and every opportunity. Bob decided she was going to _love_ square dancing. When Uncle Steven offered her his best square dancing boots, she took them, and stomped loudly past Ella as she headed for the truck.

 

Bob hadn’t thought about getting laid in a while. She was supposed to spend the entire summer with her cousins, so, contrary to popular belief, the dating pool was nonexistent. The only orgasms she had planned for took place in her makeshift basement bedroom, touching herself and thinking about the Russian girl Bob had shared a dorm room and occasionally a bed with.

Until they pulled up to the community center and passed three couples Bob’s age making out quite vigorously in the parking lot. Bob stared. Mack stared. Ella parked the truck. Bob realized she hadn’t really known what to expect from a young adults’ square dance social at a community center in rural Wisconsin, but the hormones flowing seemed to rival some of the clubs back in NYC. The straight ones, at least.

Ella turned to Mack before getting out. “If I catch you drinking, I’ll kill you.” Then, to Bob, “Don’t die.” She pushed the door open and disappeared.

Bob looked at Mack, unsure if he was planning on listening to his sister. He just rolled his eyes and slid out the other door, leaving Bob alone in the center seat of the truck.

She took a second to remember society beyond the Caldwell farm. Alcohol. Dancing. Sex. Bob knew this shit; she knew how it worked.

Bob told herself that over and over as she slid out of the truck and her heels crunched in the dirt.

 

Bob loved square dancing.

Or she had at least convinced herself she did. Having learned and performed real choreography for years, her body fell into the repetitive motions easily, smacking the heels of her boots on the ground eagerly, waving her arms and hips around. She bumped into girls wearing poofy skirts and guys wearing plaid. She danced mostly next to Mack. He laughed at her and took her through the weird arm movements when she got stuck on them.

Mack left her alone because he apparently actually had friends, so Bob danced by herself for a while. She enjoyed the music and being in a “real building”, which was just a giant metal box in a giant empty field, but still. It was cool inside. Bob tried not to stare at the banners on the wall, announcing county fairs going back 20 years, knowing it would make her stand out even more than her afro and oversized, minimalist clothes already were.

When Bob saw Ella migrate out of the dancing crowd with a gaggle of girls in cowboy hats and gingham, she involuntarily hovered towards them. They were trekking to some corner and Bob followed, hearing their nasally voices.

“She looks like such a slut.”

“I heard she fucked Jeremy after graduation.”

“She graduated?” Ella asked, and the girls giggled. Bob didn’t know who they were talking about, but she was pretty sure the poor girl didn’t deserve all that. She watched them slow and hover in one place, checking their phones and talked.

Someone said something about a ‘pissed-stained doily’ as Bob moved into Ella’s sightline. “Hi,” She said to Ella, and threw quick glances around the circle as well, gauging the judgement in each girl’s eyes.

Ella just looked at her, confused.

“Hi Ella,” Bob repeated, and looked more pointedly at the strangers.

“Oh,” Ella said, “Uh. This is my cousin, Bob,” She said, and looked back at her phone. A couple of the girls gave Bob tight smiles, but most just ignored her.

Bob stepped closer to Ella and said, “This is fun. Thanks for bringing me.”

Ella didn’t even respond.

“So, are you guys still in high school?” Bob asked the gaggle, and the reactions ranged from annoyed looks to almost anger.

“Ugh. No.”

“We just graduated.”

“Yeah, we graduated.”

Bob couldn’t hold in her smile, which just made them all more mad at her. She asked Ella, “Do you know like everyone here?”

“Uh, nope,” Ella said.

Bob nodded, looked around, and decided to give up. She wasn’t about to learn or gain anything else from these people. “See you around.”

 

Ten minutes later, Mack found her dancing again. “Hey kid,” Bob said, as he started sidestepping next to her.

“Hey.” He didn’t look upset or distressed, but maybe a little nervous.

“Friends ditch you?”

“No,” was all he offered, but when Bob gave him a weird look, Mack admitted, “They started drinking in Mickey’s car.”

Bob considered that. “You actually listen to Ella?”

He smiled in a way that showed he knew it seemed ridiculous, and Bob had to look over her shoulder to see it as they danced. Mack said, “She won’t let me move into her room unless I’m nice to her all summer.”

Bob laughed, loud and pure, thinking on Ella being so petty and Mack humouring her for 3 ½ more months. She couldn’t keep dancing, and just laughed in place, leaning forwards on her knees.

When Bob could breathe again, she had missed a turn so she straightened up, turned her body and looked across the crowd—

A beautiful girl was staring at her.

She had huge brown eyes, a soft pink smile, and blonde curls crowning her head like a halo. She was looking at Bob like she was the most interesting person in the room. Her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked.

Bob felt her cheeks heat and her tongue slip between her lips quickly. The girl’s smile grew. She spun around once, arms thrown carelessly in the air, and locked eyes with Bob once more before returning to the square dance. Then she was just a blonde head bouncing in the crowd.

Bob looked at Mack, who was dancing half-assedly and looking away at an awkward angle. “Who’s that girl?” Bob asked.

Mack stopped dancing and looked at her, his face saying he wanted to talk about anything else. “Uh. That’s Trixie. Everyone thinks she’s a slut now.”

“Why?” Bob bothered to ask. Mack didn’t answer, just shifted in place. Luckily, the song changed, so Bob said, “C’mon,” and pulled on Mack’s arm until he started dancing again with her. She made jokes about his dumb friends and he was laughing, until the dumb friends returned calling his name and promising he didn’t have to drink. She waved him off and Mack disappeared.

Bob started to move closer and closer to the stage, telling herself it was the free water she wanted. She was thinking _water water water_ when the song playing stopped. Everyone stopped moving to clap, as custom, which made it harder to weave through people so Bob stood still. The singer announced the next song and suddenly everyone was walking around, reaching arms out and generally confusing Bob.

Suddenly, five pink nails were on Bob’s upper arm, trailing down the skin. She turned.

Trixie smiled, and Bob was lost in the pink of her lips, the bright yellow blur of her dress. The sleeves and skirt were poofed up, but the bodice clung tight to her chest. The whole thing was covered in gold lace and stones. She shifted almost imperceptibly forwards on her feet and Bob looked down at her boots—bright yellow cowboy boots with red flowers. And here Bob had felt flamboyant in 10-year-old brown farming boots.

Trixie’s hand fell away and Bob looked back up. Trixie said, “Do you need a partner?”

Bob realized everyone had been grabbing onto each other for a reason, and were gearing up to dance holding onto someone else. She cursed in her head. “I don’t know this one.”

“I can show you,” Trixie offered, in a voice that sounded so innocent. She closed her hand around Bob’s wrist and pulled her to the edge of the crowd.

Bob just let Trixie hold her hands, push her back and forth, kick her heels when she missed a step. Bob laughed and tried, but she couldn't focus on figuring out the dance, kept staring at Trixie’s eyes or lips or hands.

“I’m Trixie,” She introduced when she linked her arm in Bob’s and started spinning them around.

Bob didn’t dare drop her gaze. “Bob.”

“Bob?” Trixie asked, eyes lighting up with confusion.

Bob nodded. “Just Bob.” She watched Trixie stare at someone behind her, and when they finished the circle and Trixie started stepping her feet back and forth in a complicated pattern, Bob looked and found Ella, stationary in the middle of the crowd, looking right at Bob. She worked a hand free to wave obnoxiously.

When Bob looked back at Trixie, she seemed almost a little embarrassed.

Bob cursed internally. She said, “I love your dress,” hoping it would smooth over whatever was going on in Trixie’s head.

Her face lit up. “Really?” She asked.

Bob nodded. “It’s hot.”

Trixie blushed at that, and Bob felt her nails dig into the skin of Bob’s hands. “I don’t usually dress like this,” She admitted. She kept dipping her head and looking up through her lashes.

Bob was started to regret not making it to the table with free water, feeling her throat get thick as they danced. “I’m here for 3 more months, so I think you should start.”

Bob knew it this wasn’t part of the dance, but she lifted one arm and coaxed Trixie to spin under it, curls bouncing. The song was ending, and Bob took both Trixie’s hands and pulled her close, swaying aimlessly. Trixie was wearing a small smile and there was fire in her eyes again. Everyone was clapping, and they were just staring at each other. They stood like that for a moment.

Then, Trixie looked away, leaned up, and put her mouth next to Bob’s ear, where she whispered, “ _Meet me in the barn across the street in ten minutes_.”

 

Bob grabbed a water bottle from the table and chugged it down. Someone stared at her, and she stared back, until they looked away. She heaved a breath and slammed the empty bottle back onto the table. Bob leaned both hands on it.

She was so turned on it hurt. Bob resisted the urge to bend her knees because she knew they would buckle beneath her. She breathed in, and out, and then looked at her watch.

Bob had to go find some fucking barn.

She traipsed out of the building, hating the sound of her heels on the concrete. The air was still hot, and the moon was intensely bright as Bob crossed the parking lot. Bob could easily see the empty road for what felt like miles in each direction. Right across from the community center, through a wall of trees, she could make out a small barn, and a large house set further back. Bob breathed.

She couldn’t believe herself, didn't have the brain power to retrace her steps. Bob just put one cowboy boot in front of the other and tried to remember how to kiss.

Bob walked quickly over the unpaved road and skipped across the lawn until she came to the door of the barn. She put her left hand on the heavy mechanism and breathed. She pushed the handle up, and slid the door open.

Trixie was lying on the ground, hands all up in her hair, one leg propped up on her other knee. The moonlight was streaming through a window, making her hair shine gold and the sparkles around her eyes glisten. Bob’s eyes raked down her body, her breasts straining against the yellow fabric, the pink and yellow petticoat, the fucking _garters_ holding up silky stockings that disappeared into her shiny boots. Bob could see her pink bloomers under all of it. It was so fucking sexy, she didn’t even care that Trixie was laid out on a bed of hay.

Bob leaned against the doorway and said, “Hi.”

Trixie giggled. “Hi.”

Bob stepped inside and pulled the door shut. She didn’t think it latched but she gave up. She had to labour to breathe as she turned around, and walked the three steps to where Trixie was waiting. Trixie was smiling at her and fiddling with her hair. Bob slowly lowered to her knees, and leaned over her, suddenly afraid to touch the perfect picture before her. She braced herself with one hand in the hay.

“You are so beautiful,” Bob remarked, which made Trixie giggle again.

“Thank you,” She said, and Bob felt herself leaning closer.

But she was still stuck. Bob said, “I, uh, suddenly regret not bringing any makeup to Wisconsin.”

Trixie just looked confused. “Oh honey, you don’t need it.”

Yeah, the pet name and the compliment were not making things easier for Bob, so close to Trixie yet so unable to close the gap. “Your eyeshadow looks really cool,” Bob heard herself say, though she had no idea why, “What shade is it?”

Now Trixie huffed once beneath her. “I don’t know, it’s called ‘Cigarette Filter’ or some shit. Will you just touch me?” Trixie asked with a laugh.

“Yes, um,” Bob spoke again, but stopped when Trixie grabbed her face and pulled her down into a kiss.

As their warm lips met, Bob leaned against the hay and landed a hand on Trixie’s breast. She was pulling Bob’s face and pressing her lips up against her. Bob rubbed down over the frills of the skirt. She traced the lace and slid flat fingertips down the silk of the stockings. Bob was careful to lick at Trixie’s mouth and not her lipstick as she followed the garters up under the tulle, feeling the dreamy petticoat tickle her skin, until her fingertips reached the garter belt. Bob played with the belt and the thin fabric of her bloomers.

Trixie was kissing her gentle, fast, and well. It was all making the heat between Bob’s legs more and more intense. When Bob rubbed dully over her mound, Trixie whimpered in her throat and put her arms around Bob’s neck. Trixie was soft and sweet. Despite the hay and dirt surrounding her and the mess in her underwear, Bob felt more clean and comfortable than she had in weeks.

Bob quickly undid the clasp on the garters. Trixie’s boots were planted flat on the hay, her hips were pushing up, and she was sucking on Bob’s lip. Bob pushed her underwear down a bit.

When Bob teased Trixie’s pubic hair with her fingers, Trixie breathed in quickly through her nose. Bob paused and pulled away, asking, “Are you okay?”

And Trixie just smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Yes,” She said, and kissed Bob’s neck.

Bob set to focus on Trixie’s vulva. She rubbed hard over the outside. She pressed one finger in and touched her clit at the same pace Trixie’s lips touched Bob’s jaw. Bob shifted her knees as she moved her hand, because they were starting to get sore from kneeling.

Trixie sighed and said, “ _Bob_ ,” making warmth bloom in Bob’s stomach. She looked down at Trixie’s body, and her hair and her breasts, her dress and her legs. Bob gritted her teeth and slid her finger down over the folds of Trixie’s pussy. “ _Yes_ ,” Trixie breathed, and Bob pressed it slowly inside her.

Trixie grabbed at Bob’s shoulder and back as her hips pushed up on her finger. Bob slowly drew it in and out, coating it in Trixie’s wetness. She looked to kiss Trixie, and ran her tongue hungrily over Trixie’s teeth, lips, and tongue. Bob pressed her own body against the hay and pushed into Trixie. She maneuvered her thumb to slide over her clitoris. She was squishing all the warm skin between Trixie’s legs all around. Trixie was twitching and squeezing beneath her, and eventually, it was all too much for Bob.

Bob leaned back and slipped her finger out of Trixie, who looked surprised. Bob put her wet hand in the hay and stretched her legs behind her quickly. “Is something wrong?” Trixie asked.

“No, just a sec,” Bob assured, already smiling at the thought of what she was going to do.

“You’re, uh,” Trixie said, as Bob moved closer to Trixie’s feet, “You’re good at this.”

Bob cocked her head, said, “Thank you,” and pushed Trixie’s skirt up to her face. “Hold this?”

Bob watched her take a moment to breathe, close her eyes, and mutter, “Oh, fuck.” Trixie looked up. She put her hands over the skirt and asked, “Can I pull your hair?”

“Yes,” Bob said, absolutely aching at the idea. She worked the bloomers down down down and over the yellow boots. Bob realized her naked ass was on the hay, and it sort of made her head hurt, but Trixie didn’t seem to mind. She settled down between Trixie’s thighs. She pressed her cheek against the lace at the top of the stockings. Trixie’s hands reached into her hair, her arms holding the skirt out of the way for Bob. As Bob moved her mouth to kiss her bare leg, she slipped one hand into her own loose pants, slide over her own pussy.

Bob sighed out of her nose as she drew sweet pleasure in circles between her legs. She thought maybe Trixie had looked down and seen her because she muttered, “Oh my god.” Bob just kissed down Trixie’s thigh.

She looked at her pussy: wet and pink. Bob pressed her lips softly over her opening, licking gently to taste her. Bob felt Trixie’s fingers curl in her hair. Bob licked again, and again, longer. Pleasure was building so fast in her body she could barely focus on what her mouth was doing. She pressed her tongue hard on Trixie’s clitoris. She wanted to work it quickly into good feelings for Trixie and she did, getting her to squirm and whine in no time.

The sounds were all Bob needed. She stopped her mouth and rubbed fast and hard over her own pussy until silver darkness washed over her mind. All Bob’s muscles tensed and she leaned stiffly into the hay, fingers still jerking quickly to work the last dregs of pleasure out of the nerves. Euphoria had her, surrounded her, and then it dropped her.

Bob breathed and Trixie moaned, “ _Oh_ . Did…Holy fuck.” Bob willed herself beyond the sleepy curtain that was threatening to cover her. She pushed her face into Trixie’s pussy again and returned to licking over the swollen red spot. “ _Oh_ ,” Trixie said again.

Bob was tired and her body hurt but she didn’t care. She grabbed at the soft tulle, dug her dull nails into Trixie’s thigh, and ate her pussy like her life depended on it. Trixie was really pulling on Bob’s hair now, and Bob responded by really pressing her mouth into her clit. She moved to lick and press against her opening. That made Trixie jerk her hips, which gave Bob some secret satisfaction. Trixie’s nails scraped over Bob’s head, and it made her wonder idly about scalp massages as she sucked on Trixie’s labia and then licked at her clit again.

Trixie was pulling Bob’s head closer and closer and Bob was giving it to her, moving wild and hard against her pussy. Bob’s tongue drew fat lines and circles over the skin that was probably close to being overstimulated. Everything was slick with saliva and Trixie’s wetness. When Trixie’s breathing became audible for Bob, she found a new wave of excitement and worked her tongue even faster. “ _Yes_ ,” Trixie moaned. “ _Yes_.”

Bob could tell Trixie was close and figured it wouldn’t hurt to give her a little something more. She braced one hand against the hay and slipped the other up between Trixie’s legs, easily pressing two fingers into her.

“ _Oh_ ,” Trixie almost screamed. Bob felt her thick and swollen as she fucked her. Tongue pressing, fingers thrusting. Trixie was kicking hay around behind Bob.

And then it was a short ride to the end. Trixie whined some more, closed her legs around Bob’s head, as her walls squeezed and spasmed around Bob’s fingers. Bob reveled in the sweet taste on her tongue, the warmth on her face, the satisfaction of making her cum like this, as she fucked and licked Trixie through it.

Finally, Trixie’s hands released Bob’s hair. She rolled around on the hay and breathed. Bob just rolled off and laid on the ground. Okay, now she felt kind of dirty.

She looked up at Trixie lying on the hay, curls everywhere, dress mussed around. Her stockings were bunch up around her knees. Bob could still see the moonlight illuminating her cheek, her eyelashes.

Trixie looked down and let her hand hang towards the ground. Bob held it, and smiled up at her. Trixie’s pink lips smiled too, and Bob let herself get lost in her shining brown eyes as she laid on the ground, covered in hay.

 

Trixie snuck Bob into the big house, promising her parents were asleep. In a half-bath on the first floor, Bob washed her hands and splashed water on her face. Trixie just leaned against the wall outside the open door. Bob didn’t really know why, didn’t know if Trixie didn’t trust her, but she didn’t care. Trixie looked pretty, warm light from the bathroom washing lighting her up.

Trixie showed her back to the door they had gingerly opened. She’d had enough of the party, and gently eased it open once more for Bob.

But Bob said, “Wait,” and grabbed a pen off a table in the foyer. Trixie jerked when Bob lifted her arm, but didn’t stop her when Bob started drawing capital letters onto her skin. Bob still looked up to check as she wrote, and Trixie was just looking at her, smiling.

“Email?” Trixie guessed correctly, as Bob carved out ‘.com’.

Bob shrugged. “No service out here.”

Trixie just raised the marked arm to touch Bob’s face, slide her thumb over her cheek, press the tips of her nails into her neck. Bob was reminding herself to breathe and also that Mack and Ella still existed. She didn’t know what Trixie was thinking, as she stared at Bob and held her face.

“Will you just kiss me?” Bob muttered.

Trixie’s grin split her face and she slapped a hand over her mouth, bouncing in place as she tried not to laugh. Bob silently giggled along, reaching for her and guiding her close until Trixie let her kiss her lips. Trixie grabbed Bob’s face and held her there until Bob felt the smile melt away, and Trixie really kissed her.

Bob pulled her mouth off Trixie’s tongue and blinked a couple times. “I have to go,” She whispered.

“Okay,” Trixie replied, letting her scoot around her and out the door. “I’ll email you, I guess.”

Bob just laughed as she skipped back across the lawn, Trixie’s parting message cementing the strangeness of the whole encounter in her mind. Strange or no, she would patiently await Trixie’s electronic mail, missing staring into her cigarette filter eyes the whole time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you laughed, cried, and felt a little tingly. Let me know how many boxes I checked below.  
> My Trixya fic, [all the things she said](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15821163/chapters/36832236), will be updated this Friday, so catch up on that quick! And check out my other works too! And come bother me on [tumblr](https://heartharps.tumblr.com/)! AHH!


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